Long Way Down
by Inklessquills
Summary: "And like as not, the winner will be one of them." But then Katniss Everdeen appears, ready to tear them down.


Long Way Down

**Disclaimer: **Hunger Games not mine. Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors.

* * *

_You prayed to have your name, scattered on the lips of the young._

_And now you claim, that it's you on the tips of their tongue._

_If you're proud of what you had to kill to get your thrill, well,_

_I bet it stings to give up everything and realize that they don't want you._

Why would they pick her? You have it all, looks _and_ skill. Charm and grace, _she _doesn't even come close.

You _are_ beautiful, with you long golden hair and emerald eyes. Flawless. You're famous in your district. Most people there know your name. So it makes sense that everyone else should know it, too.

You traded jewels for weapons and manicures for scars. A small price to pay, really. You can already hear your name again, a little louder now that you're even more perfect.

Then, why, do they love _her_? Dull grey eyes and childish giggles. She can climb a tree, but that doesn't make her nearly as impressive as you. Yet, they love _her_. That _boy _loves her, too. Even if she's not beautiful, someone truly loves her. Not for her looks, but for her character. And you have no one. Because no one ever saw you like that.

Only when you lie on the ground, skin on fire, do you understand that it's not you they want to see more of. They want her and you, well, you lost the one thing you were so proud of having. Gone is the flawlessness you flaunted.

You hear your name again along with the words _**what a shame, she was a sight**_. Then, you hear nothing at all.

* * *

_A hollow sound, is ringing where your heart used to be._

_Have you found, that admiration will never set you free?_

_Get your lies prepared, you're next in line for judgment day._

_Now, aren't you praying, aren't you begging, that you're anyone else?_

You don't even think twice about throwing that spear at that tiny girl. It's instinct. You have to win the games, because you want it. You want everyone to know who you are and say your name with pure adoration. You want the cheers and praise. You'll be their idol.

You deserve it. You've spent years training and here is your chance to prove your worth. By killing a twelve year old. even better, you do it with everyone watching.

You hear her inside your head. Her baby voice, your sister, asking why you did it. Certainly, you wouldn't do something so despicable. It's not like you, she says. How could you? Her big brother who walked her to school and gave her piggy back rides. He's gone, swallowed up by your desire to be idolized.

The word **_cruel_** replaces**_ caring_** and suddenly, you wish you could take the spear back and heal this girl, but you can't.

_Her_ arrow flies through the air and you don't know where it hits, but you can't breath. You're choking and falling and just _dying_. That girl, the one with the arrows, _she_'s a hero. She came to rescue the little girl and everyone will admire her actions. You die a killer and that earns you no praise.

You wonder if you could have been like _her_. When you take your last breath, you let yourself believe that you are. You're still the boy your sister knew, right?

That one lie will spare you from the shame.

* * *

_Well I bet you're sorry now._

_You did this to yourself._

_Well I bet you're sorry now._

_Well aren't you sorry now?_

You hated being the baby of the family. The only girl, the princess of the palace, as your father called you.

Your mother loved you, her daughter, finally after two boys. She dressed you in the finest of dresses, fixed your hair with the most delicate hands. Your father bought you anything and everything you desired. Doll houses and shoes at the snap of your dainty fingers. Then, you didn't want it. What did mommy say? Girls like shiny things. Things that glitter and sparkle. Bet she didn't think you'd look at the knives. Silver, glowing in the sunlight. A true treasure, fit for a princess to wield.

You wanted to prove you were strong, unlike your brothers. Both dead and your parents beg you to stay. Don't volunteer, it's not for you. Stay home.

But _she's _not stronger than you, this girl that everyone cheers for. You're there, pinning _her_ to the ground, reminding her that she wasn't strong enough to save her precious friend. You'll always be stronger and you'll prove it.

In your mind, you create patterns. The one's that will adorn her skin even as she lays in her wooden box. Something you parent's would like to see. Beautiful patterns, like the one's on the dresses you wore when you were young.

You should have made up your mind, because the next minute a giant stands over you, ready to kill. And you want to be home more than anything. Perhaps your parents were right, this isn't for you. It's for _her_.

You'd give it all up for a chance to walk away from this. You don't.

* * *

_It's a lonely road, where the, forgotten go,_

_where your, misery finds it's company._

_It's a long way down, to the, sacred ground,_

_where the reaper's playing for keeps._

What you wanted wasn't fame or money. It was glory and honor, what everyone should hope to have one day.

Long hours at the gym, working endlessly. Perfecting every swing of your sword and mastering every attack, focused on just you. Shutting out the rest of the world, all for a chance at that glory. Volunteering was the best thing you could do.

_She _comes along, flames and all, stealing the spotlight. Taking what is rightfully yours. Everyone knows her name.

At the end, you're the one standing in front of her, her lover at your mercy, but you can't find the will to end it. Not when you know that you're not going to get anything. She's made her mark and there's no room for you now. You'll be just another winner, always living in her shadow. You did everything for nothing. All that time, a waste.

It's awful, the moment when you realize it. It's more painful then the mutts that claw at you or staring into the eyes of those you killed. You _want_ death, because there you'll find others like you. All those that faded into nothing. Your wish is granted, by _her_ of course. Another thing everyone will remember her for. After eighteen years of living a half life, death is slightly better. There, you aren't alone.

* * *

Song is called _Playing for Keeps _by Elle King. It reminded me of the Careers so I wrote this. Pretty bad, but here it is! I hope you know who is who, deaths are in order.


End file.
